


System Malfunctions

by Frejennix, Lalijinx



Series: The Other Side of the Mirror [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Light/Dark Side Switch, Emotional Repression, Fear of Abandonment, Gen, Hints of Past Trauma, Intrusive Thoughts, Obsession, Panic Attacks, Perfectionist tendencies, Rejection Sensitivity, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frejennix/pseuds/Frejennix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalijinx/pseuds/Lalijinx
Summary: Sometimes, Logan can be a bit robotic.The Core Sides show him that it's okay.(Episode 9, Arc 2)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Series: The Other Side of the Mirror [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794676
Comments: 119
Kudos: 145
Collections: Sanders Sides, TSS Fanworks Collective





	1. Pressure Ventilation

Mornings in the mindscape were Janus's favorite time of day.

There was something so peaceful about being the only conscious being in the mindscape; when even Thomas’s presence was dimmed down to a low buzz on the edge of Janus’s senses.

It was...quiet, in a way that things rarely were in the mindscape. During normal daylight hours, (and a disproportionate amount of the night) even the quiet moments had a tendency to be filled with sound. Whether it was the distant sound of Virgil keeping fit, or Remus making frustrated noises as he struggled with a new project, or just the sound of Janus's own thoughts as he worried about Thomas or his boys, there was always _something_.

But in the morning, when Janus was sure that Virgil and Remus were sound asleep, safe in their beds while Thomas dreamed his final dreams before waking, he could let his mind go quiet, drink his first cup of coffee and just _be_.

Little changed now that Logan had been added to the mix. The intellectual side tended to keep to a rigid sleep schedule (except for the few times when he just _did not sleep_ , which Janus did not care for at all), but he tended to stay in his room until a more appropriate time of morning, whereas Janus rarely started a day without watching the sun rise from the kitchen window.

Remus had asked about the logic behind how the sun rose in the mindscape years ago. Janus had replied that their environment was a reflection of Thomas's; on some level, Thomas was aware of the sun rising, even if he wasn't actively conscious of it.

Remus had accepted that explanation without arguing, despite the fact that Janus had not been entirely sure it was true. But Remus believed it, and so did Virgil.

(They believed a lot of the things that Janus just guessed at.)

Janus pulled his mind back from the uncomfortable direction his thoughts had turned. No need to start the day in such a maudlin way.

Not on this day anyway. Today was a good day.

“Good morning, Janus.” Logan said from behind him. Janus smiled into his next sip of coffee, savoring the last dregs of it before turning to greet the other side.

Only to stop, his brows rising toward his hairline at the sight of the other side.

Since Thomas had summoned him, Logan had only ever been in one outfit: a black polo with a striped navy blue tie over black slacks. This was not uncommon amongst the sides, as these were Thomas's first perceptions of them. Virgil in particular treated his purple hoodie like a sacred object, taking care to mend every tear as soon as they appeared.

Which is why the sight of Logan in jeans and an indigo polo without a tie to be seen was both surprising and...welcome. It meant that Logan was...relaxing, not maintaining such a high bar of professionalism for himself.

Janus was of the opinion that Logan needed all the relaxation he could get.

“Good morning Logan,” Janus said, getting to his feet. “Tea?”

“Yes please,” Logan said, taking the seat opposite Janus. He placed his ever present notebook on the table, watching Janus with those bright eyes as Janus puttered around the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Janus said evasively, setting the sugar bowl and the steeping mug of earl grey in front of Logan. “Anything interesting on the schedule today?”

“Not for Thomas,” Logan said, taking two delicate spoonfuls of sugar and stirring them into his tea. “Although Remus asked me to block out some of my time this evening. He mentioned a movie?”

“Yes,” Janus said, pouring his second cup of coffee and returning to his previous seat. “It’s sort of a bi weekly tradition for the core sides. Remus wanted to make sure you were able to participate.” 

“Does that mean you watch movies twice a week or once every two weeks?”

“The second one, although we have missed several weeks recently,” Janus said with a smile. “He’s very excited that you will be joining us.”

“I got that impression,” Logan said, a little quirk of his own smile around his lips. They drank their beverages in companionable silence, until Logan broke it abruptly, surprising Janus. 

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What are your daily objectives within the mindscape?” Logan asked curiously. “How do you...for lack of a better phrase, pass the time?”

“What do you mean?” Janus said, wary. “I take care of things.”

“What things in particular? I…” Logan paused to adjust his glasses, glancing away from Janus. “It is beneficial for me to spend time outside of both my room and the Library. I wish to be a help, not a hindrance, so…” Logan’s face shifted into something almost pleading, and Janus felt his heart soften slightly. “Is there anything that you might require of me?” 

“I see,” Janus said, tapping his finger against the side of his mug. How much could he tell Logan?

What would he understand?

(How much did Janus really understand in the first place?)

“My...duties, as they pertain to my function, have more to do with how I interact with Virgil and Remus. The subconscious has always directed how we spend our time. In my case, it allows me to know when Virgil and Remus are needed, so that I can direct them accordingly. Beyond that…” he smiled. “Are you familiar with the saying, ‘food for thought’?”

“I...believe it refers to an idea or piece of information that's worth pondering or thinking over,” Logan said, his hand inching towards his notebook like he wanted to check his notes.

“Precisely.” Janus tapped decisively on the table. “And while we are not, in the strictest sense, Thomas's thoughts, the concept of feeding your thoughts becomes a little more literal here. It's my job to keep Thomas's mind orderly, and his sides properly nourished. And I hate to say it, but both Virgil and Remus have...tenuous relationships with self care.” 

Understatement. Virgil and Remus wouldn't know self care if it hit them in the face. 

“Does that answer your question?” Janus prompted, hoping that Logan wouldn't ask for more specifics on the subconscious.

“...Somewhat,” Logan said, his eyes narrowed. “So you feel responsible for the welfare of both Virgil and Remus.”

“And you,” Janus reminded him gently. “You are a core side too, after all.”

“I hardly think I require looking after,” Logan said haughtily, taking a miffed sip of his tea. Janus raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

“Oh? So I _didn't_ find you passed out at this table the other night, finishing up the schedule?” Janus sipped at his coffee delicately. “My mistake then.”

“...You are entirely too sarcastic for your own good, Janus,” Logan grumbled.

Janus laughed, delighted.

Yes, today was shaping up to be an excellent day.

* * *

Or so he thought.

“So how robotic are you?”

Oh, Remus.

Logan stiffened, snapping his notebook shut. “I beg your pardon?” He said to Remus, who had just sat down at Logan’s side, his face a little manic and a spectacular case of bedhead atop his head. 

“How robotic are you?” Remus repeated, seemingly unaware of the mounting tension in the room. “Is it just the glowing eyes and the circuits, or is there more that you’re not telling us?”

“Remus, wasn't there something you wanted to discuss with Thomas this morning?” Janus said, in an attempt to distract the creative side from his line of questioning. “Don’t you need to prepare for that?”

“Eh, I'll ask him later,'' Remus said, waving Janus's question aside. “I’ve been waiting all night to ask Logan stuff though.” 

Janus sighed. This was going to end very poorly. 

“I am not comfortable with this particular line of questioning, Remus,” Logan said carefully, getting to his feet, “I would appreciate it if you—”

“Do we all have the potential to be like this? Cause, man I got such a shit deal if I had the option of being, like...half octopus or something,” Remus said, pouting and blocking each of Logan's attempts to go around him. “Come on, Logan, share your secrets!”

“Remus, Logan doesn't want to talk about this. End of discussion,” Janus said flatly, seeing the way Logan gripped his notebook so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “We all have things we should be doing right now—”

“What? Come on, I'm curious! Logan always tells me to follow my curiosity!”

“Remus, please, I am trying to—”

“Do you bleed?”

“What?” Logan asked, and his hesitance was enough for Remus to block the doorway, trapping Logan in the kitchen.

“Do you bleed? Or if we cut you open, would you just be wires on the inside?”

“Remus!”

“Do you still have a heartbeat?”

“Please, ḛ̸̯̑̑n̶͍̮̓ö̴̼̜́̌ṳ̶͉͐͝g̷̜̣̔͂h̵̖̮͐, Remus!” Logan said firmly, his eyes flashing and voice distorting as…

As literal steam came out of his ears.

“Holy shit!” Remus said before Janus could say anything. Logan’s face twisted, and he disappeared from view, though whether he retreated to his room or sought refuge with Thomas was anybody’s guess.

“Logan?” Remus called, and Janus could tell by the other side’s wince that Logan had chosen to be with Thomas. “Logan?!”

“Remus.”

Remus’s wide eyes were on Janus, looking shocked at how events had unfolded. “Jan, what the fuck. Logan, he just, out of nowhere—”

“Leave him be, Rem.”

“What?” Remus yelped, betrayed. “No, no, we can't! What if he’s not okay?”

“He’ll be fine, he just needs some time to cool down.”

“But he...I…” Remus trailed off, horror dawning on his face. “Janus, is he mad at me?”

“...Come on. We have work to do.”

“He’s mad at me?” Remus repeated, his voice high and distressed. “But...but I was just asking questions! I wasn't trying to be mean, I was just curious!”

“I know, Rem.”

“Lemme, lemme go talk to him,” Remus said, his hand running through his tangled hair, gripping it tightly at the ends. “I’ll, I'll tell him I'm sorry, and I'll make it up to him. I’ll fix it—”

“I think,” Janus said, gripping Remus's vest, snatching him back and keeping him rooted in the mindscape, “that it would be best if you left him alone for a bit.”

“But...but he’s _mad_ at me.”

“I know,” Janus said, putting his hand on Remus’s neck and rubbing gently, wishing that he had better answers to give him. “But that’s not something you can change right now.” Remus let out a pathetic little whine, and Janus grit his teeth against useless platitudes. “Let him talk to Thomas.” He put his arm around Remus’s shoulder, steering him away. “Come on, you can help me until he gets back, and we’ll see if he’s ready to talk.”

* * *

Distracting Remus was a challenge. The side’s mind could move so fast, it was hard to keep ahead of it sometimes. And Janus _had_ to keep ahead of it, or Remus would spiral faster than he could catch him.

So he had Remus rearrange the cupboards, conjure their grocery list, anything to keep his mind occupied. 

When he finished those tasks before Logan returned, Janus was forced to give him more menial tasks. The trick there was to keep Remus engaged in something that he could talk about, whether it was a current art project or story idea or just what he’d been doing in the imagination recently.

Just keep him talking, so that he wouldn't start thinking.

But keeping him talking was proving more difficult than usual. Remus was withdrawn, reticent, reluctant to talk and it was driving Janus crazy.

He could have shouted for joy when he finally felt a shift in the mindscape, turning to Remus immediately.

“He’s back.”

Remus nearly dropped the stockpot he was scrubbing. “Are you sure?”

“He just made an alteration to his room,” Janus answered, turning off the burner as he grabbed Remus by the vest again. “Wait a minute.”

“But—!”

“Finish what you were doing,” Janus insisted, pointing at the rest of the dishes. Remus attempted to use his puppy dog eyes, but Janus was unmoved. “ _Now_ , Remus.”

Janus wasn't sure if Logan was prone to feeling ambushed, but he couldn't afford to let Remus take that chance.

Remus rushed through the scrubbing, haphazardly stacking the plates in the dish drainer. As soon as the last dish was clean, Remus was rushing out of the kitchen before Janus could give him more chores, Janus following at a more sedate pace a moment later. 

Remus skidded to a stop in front of Logan’s indigo door, nerves making him shaky as he reached out to the door. 

“Logan?” Remus called, knocking gingerly on the door. 

“Leave me be, Remus.”

Remus winced at Logan’s curt dismissal, while Janus watched him worriedly. He bit at his lip before trying again.

“Logan, I—”

Remus didn’t get the chance to finish, as there was a thump from inside, and then any words he wanted to say were drowned out by a new sound. 

Piano music. 

Was Logan… playing the piano? That must have been the change Janus had felt earlier. 

The music coming from Logan’s rooms swelled, into something aggressive, yet still beautiful. Logan was obviously skilled, and there was no way he could hear anything over the sound. Janus put a soft hand on Remus’s shoulder to pull him away. 

Remus jerked out from under his hand, turning watery eyes to him. “No, I...I still have to apologize.” 

Janus sighed sympathetically. “I know, Rem, but not right now. Logan isn’t ready, he needs time.”

“I just. I _need_ to say sorry. I can wait.'' Remus immediately sat down right there in the hall across from Logan's door.

“Remus, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Jan.” Remus looked up at him imploringly. “But, I don’t want to leave him alone.” 

Janus watched him consideringly. He wasn’t going to be able to pull Remus away at this point, not without a fight, and adding more hurt feelings wasn’t going to help anyone. He sighed again. 

“Okay, Rem.” He smiled softly, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, okay?” 

“Thanks, Jan.” Remus gave him a tremulous smile and summoned his sketchbook, getting comfortable against the wall.

Janus slowly made his way back down the hall, reluctant to leave, even though he knew staying wouldn’t solve anything. Maybe he’d go break down a chicken. Start some stock for soup and marinate the breasts for chicken sandwiches or something.

He just really needed to _stab_ something. Break some _bones_.

Then maybe he’d feel better. 

* * *

“Do you know that Remus is sitting outside Logan’s room?” Virgil asked two hours later, coming down for lunch as Janus was putting the sandwiches together.

“I do know that,” Janus said, sighing heavily, spreading garlic mayonnaise on some toast. “Is he still sketching?”

“Nope.”

“Writing?” he asked hopefully, his heart sinking.

“Nope. He’s staring at Logan's door mostly. At least he was just now.” Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is he okay?”

“He’s waiting to apologize to Logan,” Janus said, trying not to grit his teeth as he layered the still warm chicken on the sandwiches, topping it with roasted tomatoes, thin slices of mozzarella, and fresh arugula.

“Ah. That explains everything,” Virgil said. “What did he say?”

“He was asking for specifics about Logan’s...condition.”

“You mean his otherness?”

“Yes. That,” Janus said curtly, refraining from squashing the sandwich out of spite as he placed the top slice of bread.

“Well, shit,” Virgil said with a low whistle. “No wonder Logan locked himself up.” He looked pensively up the stairs as Janus cut each of the four sandwiches in half with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. “Did you know he could play like that?”

“No. I didn't,” Janus said, looking down at the plates. He deliberated for a single moment before grabbing one of the plates and putting it into the fridge.

If Logan wanted his damn sandwich, he could open his door, let Remus apologize and come get it himself.

“Can you take Remus' lunch with you when you go back up?” he asked, pushing two of the sandwiches at Virgil.

“Huh? Why can't you do it?”

“Because if I go up there and see him sitting outside Logan's door like an abandoned puppy, I'm going to do something _needlessly cruel_ to Logan.” 

“Janus!”

“I _know,_ ” Janus said, defeated, rubbing his hands across his face, both to relieve the itchy feeling under his skin and to avoid seeing Virgil’s shocked face. “I know that’s not fair. Logan’s feelings are valid. Remus was in the wrong. But I _cannot_ see him like that again.” 

It hurt enough the first time.

“Logan’s not a monster,” Virgil said, although not nearly as confidently as Janus would have liked. He patted Janus on the shoulder comfortingly. “He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“I hope you’re right. For his sake.”

“Remus’s or Logan’s?”

“ _Both_.”

* * *

Remus didn't eat his sandwich.

Janus knew this, because he could see it, sitting next to Remus as he stared morosely at the indigo door across from him. They were now entering hour four of Logan’s isolation, impassioned piano music still emanating from his room.

And Janus was nearing his breaking point. Any minute now, he was going to walk up to Logan's door and _demand_ he open it and let Remus apologize, privacy and decorum be _damned_.

Doing so would certainly set their relationship back several steps, and possibly ruin any attempts at communication in the future.

But Remus had not moved in _four hours_ , and Janus was just about at his wit’s end, watching him from around the corner, hidden from view.

He just looked so sad, Janus could hardly bear it.

He was so focused on repressing his urge to escalate the situation that he didn't realize that the music had stopped. Remus did, though, scrambling across the hallway on his knees, knocking lightly on Logan's door.

Three timid little knocks.

“Logan?”

There was no response, and Remus visibly wilted before he cleared his throat, trying again.

Janus had never found Remus’s tenacity so heartbreaking before.

“Logan, you’ve been in there for a really long time. You missed lunch, but I saved you a sandwich if you want it.”

Still no response, and Remus made a quiet little whimper that made Janus want to gather him up in his arms and promise that Janus would make everything better.

But he couldn't.

He had to let Remus try on his own.

“I’m sorry.”

Logan still didn't say anything, so Remus continued. “I should have noticed that I was upsetting you. I don't know why I didn't.” His voice was thick, and he was clenching his hands in the carpet like he wanted to tap them, but refused to. “I won't ever ask any more questions about... _that_ , I swear. Just...just p-please come out?” 

The sound of Remus's hitching breaths was like tiny needles in Janus's lungs. “We’re watching a movie tonight, remember? A-and I know you’re mad at me, but it's kind of a tradition, and...and if you want, I won't sit anywhere near you, or talk to you, or bother you at all. I promise I won't make another _sound,_ for the rest of the night, or week, or month, however long you want, just please come out—”

The door opened, which was good, because Janus didn't think he could have suffered through one more word of _that_ without doing something drastic. Logan looked a little like he felt similarly, looking at Remus with dismay on his face.

“Remus,” Logan began, his face contorting as Remus flinched, a faint blue tinge to his skin. “I was going to come back out. Eventually.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, picking at the carpet. “Maybe.”

“Remus.”

“I’d never seen you so mad at me before,” Remus said, a little choked. “And, and I know it was my fault, and you have every right to be mad at me forever, but I really didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm so, so sorry, Logan.”

“Oh Remus,” Logan said, crouching down so he was level with him. “I am not going to be mad at you forever. There is hardly a scenario in which that would ever happen.”

“But...you’re still mad at me?”

“...Not _at_ you, Remus,” Logan sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Mostly I am...disappointed. In _myself_ ,” he added when Remus looked crushed.

“I am disappointed that your questions still had such an effect on me. I know logically it does not make sense to still be...sensitive about the subject. I should have better control over my emotional responses than that.” Logan met Remus’s watery eyes, determined and regretful. “And to take out my frustrations on you was especially shameful, and I do apologize for that mistake.”

“But you didn't do anything?” Remus tilted his head, confused, absently wiping his nose with his sleeve. “You just walked away.”

“I abandoned you,” Logan pushed on despite Remus’s noise of dissent. Janus winced in his hiding spot, because that was very much what he had been thinking earlier. It didn’t help the guilt roiling in his heart at all to know Logan had the same thoughts. “You have shown in the past to be particularly sensitive towards any perceived rejection or abandonment. My abrupt departure must have been particularly damaging to you, and I should have known better.”

“It…” Remus hesitated, for once thinking over his response before he said it. A marked improvement from this morning, and Janus let out a silent breath of relief. “I can't say it didn't suck, but if you’re trying to apologize for having perfectly reasonable emotional responses—”

“Emotions are not reasonable when they hurt someone else.”

“You’re not supposed to be suppressing your emotions,” Remus huffed, frowning concerned at Logan. “That’s like...the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I can suppress the ones that hurt you,” Logan said darkly, a grim sort of determination coloring his face. “Just watch me.”

“Logan. You’re allowed to have feelings. And you’re…” he sniffled again, his eyes on the ground. “You’re allowed to be mad at me. You should be mad at me. I was being an insensitive jerk.”

“I know that was not your intent, Remus.”

“Still. I'll be better.” He glanced up at Logan through wet eyelashes. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” Logan said immediately, and the tight knot in Janus's stomach instantly unravelled. “Do you—”

“Nope,” Remus said, hushing Logan as he smashed the logical side’s entire face with a broad fingered hand. “Not allowed to ask forgiveness, ‘cause you didn't do anything wrong. Them’s the rules.”

“That is _terrible_ grammar,” Logan groused, removing his glasses and glaring at the lenses. “How did you manage to get _every one of your fingerprints_ on my glasses?”

“Talent,” Remus giggled, the smile back on his face where it belonged.

Janus smiled as well, and headed back down the stairs, a plan for the rest of the evening already forming in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter in one week.
> 
> Movie night in the mindscape! What could go wrong?
> 
> Come visit us on @themorethingschange on Tumblr!


	2. Ocular Lubrication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains extreme spoilers for the movie 'Big Hero 6', so if you haven't seen that movie and plan to, be warned (Also you should. See that. It's a good movie.)

“Oh good, you two made up,” Virgil said a while later, coming down the stairs to see Remus and Logan sitting on the couch while Janus flitted back and forth from the kitchen. “I was getting worried after hour four of ‘angry piano solos’.”

“I hope I did not disturb you—'' Logan began, turning around to speak to Virgil and trailing off immediately, his eyes wide.

“Nah, don't worry about it,” Virgil said, grabbing a sugar cookie off of the platter that Janus was carrying as he passed by. “Actually, either the third or the fourth one was actually not bad music to work out to. Very aggressive. What was it called?”

“... _Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6_ ,” Logan said faintly, his eyes tracking up and down Virgil’s form. “What are you _wearing_?”

“What?” Virgil said, looking down. “It’s onesie movie night. I’m wearing my onesie,” Virgil said, spreading his arms out wide so Logan could take in every bit of his Captain America onesie. “Speaking of which, where is _your_ onesie, trash panda?”

“Logan doesn't have one,” Remus pointed out.

“And why not?”

“Why would I own such a garment?” Logan said, baffled. “Are they not meant for children?”

“They're comfy,” Virgil said with a shrug. “You’re missing out.”

“I believe I will decline,” Logan said dryly, although he looked somewhat conflicted. 

“So what's your excuse then?” Virgil asked Remus, vaulting over the back of the armchair and settling sideways into it. “It's tradition, Remus.”

“I didn't want Logan to be the only one not wearing one.”

“...What are you _talking_ about?” Virgil spluttered, gesturing at Janus. “You won't let Janus wear the ones he has anyway! You give him a new one every two weeks and you won't let him wear them!”

“Because he doesn't _love_ them,” Remus whined. His face brightened a moment later. “But now that you _mention_ it…”

“Remus,” Janus said, fondly exasperated. He put down the last of the snacks as Remus conjured a box, holding it out for him to take. “I’ve told you, it doesn't _matter—_ ”

“It DOES matter!” Remus insisted, holding out the box and impatiently wiggling it. “Open it!”

“I do not understand,” Logan said flatly. Virgil sighed. 

“Three years ago we had a themed secret santa gift exchange. We were each supposed to give each other a onesie that best represented them. Janus got me this one, I got Remus a Stitch one, and Remus…”

“Remus got me a lovely onesie. One I liked _very much_ ,” Janus said, emphasizing the last two words heavily.

And he had...to an extent. He had suggested the theme after hearing Thomas's subconscious thoughts about how they looked very comfy, and knew that both Virgil and Remus would get a kick out of them. He had not expected Remus to latch onto this idea of perfection so hard that he was still clinging to it like a tick three years later.

“It. Wasn't. Good. Enough,” Remus said, just as insistently. He wiggled the box again. “But I think I have it this time. Open it, open it, open it!”

Janus opened the box, and looked inside.

“Remus, I—” Janus began, a smile stretching across his face. “I love it.”

“Really?”

“Really, yes, Remus, it's perfect,” Janus effused, putting all the sincerity he could into his words.

Which is apparently where he went wrong.

“...Why do you gotta _lie_ to me like this, Janus?” Remus whined, snatching both the box and the onesie and banishing them from existence, crossing his arms and sulking.

“What.”

“I know,” Virgil said, patting a confused Logan on the back. “I know, buddy.”

“Remus, please explain.” Logan’s voice was a little high pitched and hysterical. “Janus said he loved it, but you are not satisfied?”

“NO!” Remus wailed, waving his hands erratically as he explained, “Because if he really loved it, like really _really_ loved it, he wouldn't be able to say _anything_ . I want him to be so overcome with feelings that he can't _contain_ it, and I will _not_ settle for less!”

“Remus…”

“I _know_ when you like stuff, Janus,” Remus said, seemingly unaware of how that sentence made Janus’s chest throb with emotion. “I'm gonna find the perfect one, you’ll see.”

Janus tried very hard not to melt, or roll his eyes. Neither of those would be particularly helpful reactions.

“Well in that case, you can go put yours on, Remus. Since I will not be donning one, _apparently_ , I can keep Logan company in his onesie-less state,” Janus said, shooing Remus towards the staircase.

“But…”

“Remus. It is alright,” Logan said calmly. “I will not feel left out, and I want you to be comfortable.” Logan smiled wryly, exchanging a quick glance with Janus. “Besides, it is apparently tradition.”

Remus gave Logan a shaky smile and bolted up the stairs. Janus breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Logan,” he said gratefully, taking the seat beside Logan on the couch.

“I...do not think I did anything worth your thanks.”

“Trust me. You did,” Janus said, patting Logan on the back. “And I greatly appreciate it.”

“...You are welcome.”

* * *

“Who’s turn is it to pick the movie?” Virgil asked, as Remus slid down the bannister to the stairs, falling over the side as his fuzzy blue onesie caused him to slide much faster than he anticipated.

“Mine, but I believe that we should let Logan pick, seeing as it is his first time at onesie movie night,” Janus said, glancing over the back of the couch to make sure Remus was alright before turning to the other side. “Logan?”

“I…” Logan faltered, looking between Remus and Virgil’s expectant faces with something approaching panic. “What are my options?”

“Anything, Logan. What’s your favorite movie?” Virgil asked.

“I do not have one.”

“Come on, everyone has a favorite movie,” Virgil said, brushing some stray crumbs off the front of his onesie before reaching for another sugar cookie.

“I simply did not have the opportunity to see very many movies before. There was…” He frowned, his voice dying in his throat. “That is to say, the…” His jaw worked soundlessly, as his brow furrowed in frustration. Janus paused, concerned at Logan’s sudden disquiet over something as seemingly simple as a favorite movie. There was a moment of silence as everyone waited for Logan to find his words.

“I do not have a favorite movie,” he said at last, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Part of Janus was relieved that the events of the morning meant that Remus was not only biting his tongue against invasive questions, he was communicating silently with Virgil over the top of the couch to drop it as well.

On the other hand…

On the other hand, _nothing_. Janus told himself firmly. He didn't need to know anything more than what Logan saw fit to tell them.

(No matter how much he wanted to know.)

“Logan, if you don't mind, I think I might have an idea of a movie that you would enjoy,” Janus said in the ensuing uncomfortable silence.

“That is satisfactory,” Logan said immediately, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”

“Rem, could you summon Big Hero 6 when you’re ready to join us on the couch?” Janus asked, reaching for the TV remote. 

“Sure!” Remus said, popping his head over the back of the couch, somersaulting into a sitting position between Logan and Janus. 

“I do not understand,” Logan said as Janus settled back, flicking through the menus on the screen. “With your control over the mindscape, surely there is no need to have physical copies of movies. Or a DVD player for that matter.”

“It makes us feel a little more normal,” Virgil said quietly, steadfastly ignoring the way Logan's head whipped around to stare at him. “A little more like we’re people.”

“I…” Logan paused, brow furrowing as he visibly changed his mind on what he was going to say. “I had not realized that the illusion of humanity was something you wanted, Virgil.”

“It's not,” Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don't make such a big deal out of everything, Nerd Herder.”

Logan said nothing, merely stared at Virgil for a few moments before his eyes flicked back at the screen, only to scrunch in confusion once more. 

“Why have you selected closed captions for the hearing impaired, Janus?” Logan gestured demonstrably around at the assembled sides. “No one here is hard of hearing.”

“It’s so we can talk over it without missing parts,” Remus said, offering Logan the plate of cookies he had been hoarding. “Chocolate chip?”

“How can you eat chocolate chip cookies after the whole guacamole sandwich thing?” Virgil asked, shuddering. Remus stopped chewing suddenly.

“Why… _in the world_...would you remind me of that?” Remus said, dropping the plate of cookies in his hand like it bit him. 

“How could you forget it? It haunts my nightmares.”

“I am sorry,” Logan said, interrupting the conversation. “ _What_ event are you referring to?”

“What do you...oh that’s right.” Virgil swallowed uncomfortably. “That was when you were...yeah.”

“Nobody tell him. Save him from the horror,” Remus said immediately.

“You know he can just look up what happened in the Library, right—”

“OH LOOK, THE MOVIE IS STARTING, TIME TO SHUT THE HELL UP, VIRGIL!” Remus said loudly.

“Jesus, Rem.” Virgil rubbed at his ear, looking sidelong at Remus. “You need to work on your subtlety.”

“I need to WHAT?” Remus leapt up to his knees on the couch, leaning over the arm to invade Virgil’s space. “SAY THAT TO MY FACE—!”

“The animation in this film is quite stunning,” Logan said to Janus while the other two bickered loudly. “And I now see why we needed subtitles.”

* * *

“I appreciate this character’s adherence to rules and order. And that organizational system was very impressive.”

“Called it,” Remus said, grinning maniacally. “Five bucks says Wasabi is his favorite character by the end.”

“I’ll take that bet. Because his favorite character is gonna be Tadashi,” Virgil replied smugly. “Janus, you want in on this action?”

“It would hardly be fair of me to take your money, boys,” Janus said, a smirk stretching across his lips. “And money doesn't really matter, does it? You should bet with something you can't just conjure, if you’re going to bet at all,” he added slyly, taking a sip of tea to hide his growing grin.

“You are _so_ right, Janus.” Remus nodded agreeably, turning back to Virgil with a challenging grin. “Loser cleans up movie night.”

“Deal,” Virgil said, extending his hand so he and Remus could shake on it.

“Should you not try to discourage them?” Logan asked, looking at Janus. He shrugged.

“There can be no better teacher than the two of them discovering they’re wrong all on their own,” Janus said sagely. “Because your favorite character is going to be Baymax.”

“Who?”

“Just keep watching the movie, Logan.”

* * *

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Virgil said abruptly, just as Hiro and Tadashi reached the bridge.

“What?” Logan said, tearing his eyes from the screen reluctantly. “Oh. Do you wish us to pause the film?”

“No,” Virgil said, walking out of the room. Logan looked quizzically after him.

“Don't worry about it,” Remus said, his voice subdued, tipping the last crumbs of salt and vinegar chips out of the empty bag and into his mouth. “He just doesn’t like the part that comes next.”

“Oh,” Logan said, casting one more look over his shoulder after Virgil, but a faint alarm coming from the tv drew his attention back to the movie. 

“That character is being very reckless, running into a burning building without suitable protection,” Logan said after a few moments. 

“Yeah.”

“But he will be alright, correct?” There was no immediate response, and Logan turned to Remus, concerned at the lack of confirmation. “Remus?”

“Just watch the movie, Logan,” Janus said, drawing his attention away from Remus’s wince.

Janus watched Logan carefully as the scene progressed. Logan’s eyes were wide and bright in the dim light of the living room, nearly as bright as the television itself. His hands gripped the seat cushions on either side of him, getting tighter and tighter. 

And then…

The explosion. 

Logan’s eyes closed immediately, his face jerking away from the screen, the faint glow of blue under his eyelids and under his skin drowned out by the orange light emanating from the tv. 

“Logan, are you okay?” Remus said, and Janus only had to glance at him to know that Remus has been watching Logan as closely as he had. 

“I am beginning to think that Virgil may have had the right idea to leave during this portion of the film,” Logan whispered, shaking slightly. Remus bit his lip, crawling closer to Logan and cuddling against his side. 

“No one else dies,” He said quietly. “I promise.”

“That is...comforting. To hear,” Logan said stiltedly, hesitating for a moment before putting his arm around Remus. “Stay here?” He asked Remus, his voice barely above a whisper. “Until…”

“Until Virgil gets back,” Remus said. “Then you’ll know the scene is done.”

“Don’t write off the movie just yet Logan.” Janus said, pushing a stack of sugar cookies and a jar of crofters at him. “I still think you’ll like it. Just give it a chance.”

Logan nodded in acknowledgement, but kept Remus close to him all the same.

* * *

“Wasabi is very relatable,” Logan commented as Wasabi stopped at the light in the middle of a car chase, gesturing at the screen with half a cookie dipped in Crofter’s, jam threatening to drip onto the carpet.

“Called it!” Remus crowed, punching his fist into the air. “Guess who’s cleaning up movie night, Para-Snore!”

“Indeed. I think I might even…” Logan produced an index card, studying it for a moment. “Stan him.” He glanced at Remus and ignored the way Virgil snorted. “Did I use that correctly?”

“Yup. Gold star, Lolo.”

“Don’t celebrate your victory just yet, Remus. The movie is barely half over,” Janus said idly.

“You’re not even in on this bet, Janus.”

“Because if I were, you would certainly lose.”

Remus made a variety of offended noises, but ultimately went quiet, grumpily crossing his arms as he watched the movie.

Janus glanced at the side sitting in the armchair, who had remained unusually quiet during this exchange. But Virgil’s face was turned towards the tv, the flashing colors illuminating his focused expression.

So Janus said nothing.

Virgil would tell him if there was a problem.

(Right?)

But then Logan made an offended noise of his own, as he began venting about the dangers of not having a seatbelt buckled in the middle of a car chase, and Janus forgot to be worried.

* * *

“Hey Logan,” Janus said, quickly doing some math in his head. “Would you mind making me a cup of tea?”

“Yes,” Logan said, getting to his feet very quickly and leaving the room.

“Why’d you…” Remus began to ask, but Janus shook his head, placing a finger over his lips and pointing at the screen, where the masked man had been revealed to be the presumed-dead Callaghan. “Oh,” Remus said quietly, his face paling. He waited, listening intently as he watched the progress of the scene on the screen. “Hey Logan, can you see if we have any more sodas in the fridge too?” he called out when it seemed like Logan would be back before the danger had passed.

Janus smiled proudly at Remus, reaching across the couch to ruffle the creative side’s hair, squeezing his shoulder gently. Remus beamed at him, pushing into the contact like a cat starved of attention. Feeling his smile grow even fonder, Janus tugged slightly on Remus’s shoulder, which was all the excuse Remus needed to clamber across the sofa, curling up against Janus’s side while the eldest side combed his fingers through his hair. 

He glanced over at Virgil, intending to offer his other side, but Virgil was steadfastly staring at the screen, not even paying attention to them. 

Janus tried not to read too much into that. 

(He did not succeed.)

* * *

“Logan, were you crying earlier?” Remus asked, noticing the slightly blotchy nature of the other side’s face. “Cause, you know, you can if you want to—”

“No,” Logan said, a touch too quickly. “I was not.”

“Right. Sorry,” Remus said, burrowing closer to Janus. Janus squeezed him tight. 

“I have said this before, but it bears repeating; this animation is stunning,” Logan said, clearly trying to change the subject. “The design of this parallel dimension is particularly beautiful.”

“Want a painting of it?” Remus asked, jumping on the chance to make amends for his perceived blunder. Logan turned to look at him at once, his eyes wide.

“You can _do_ that?”

“Sure I can. I’ll start it tomorrow,” Remus said, his nonchalant words belying how he was vibrating with excitement. “Been looking for a new project anyway.”

As Logan began to inquire as to the details of Remus's plans, Janus noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. A napkin that had been crumpled up, like it had been squeezed tightly in a fist for several minutes, sitting by Logan. It had some sort of dark substance on it…almost like...

Oh.

That’s why he didn't cry around them.

Hmm.

“Excuse me for a moment, boys,” Janus said, getting to his feet. Logan looked up, startled. 

“Is the next part—” he asked suspiciously, moving like he was going to rise up. Janus pushed him back down gently.

“Thomas is calling,” he lied, and Logan relaxed. “Don't bother pausing, I'll just be a moment.”

“Kay,” Remus said, stretching his legs across Janus's spot. “Be back soon, or you’ll miss the ending.”

“Wouldn't dream of that,” Janus said, ruffling Remus’s hair before projecting himself into Thomas's apartment.

“Oh hey, Janus,” Thomas said, pausing his video game. “I thought you guys were doing your movie night tonight.”

“We are. I just need you to look something up for me,” Janus said with a small smile.

* * *

“Janus, I can't believe you missed it,” Remus whined as Janus returned to the mindscape. “Logan had the best reaction when the microchip was in the fist, it was amazing.”

“I’m sure it was something to behold,” Janus said warmly. “As for the verdict on Logan’s favorite character?”

“It...It seems you were correct, Janus,” Logan said, clearing his throat. “Though Wasabi shares a lot of my personal...quirks, I believe that my favorite character is Baymax, conclusively.”

Janus grinned smugly as Remus wailed, overdramatic as usual. “Well boys, since you both lost, I suppose Logan and I can retire to bed, and expect this…” he gestured at the mess of snacks and drinks, “Will be cleaned up by morning.”

“It is not a problem, I can assist in the—'' Logan said, getting to his feet and reaching for an empty bag of chips.

“No, no,” Janus said, pushing Logan gently away from the mess. “It defeats the lesson if you help them, Logan. They should know better than to bet against me.” 

“But—“ Logan said weakly as Janus began pulling him up the stairs. 

“Besides, I have something I need to show you,” Janus said, leading him down the hall pausing in front of Logan’s door. “Wait right there,” He said, not waiting to hear Logan’s confused acquiescence before heading to his own yellow door. 

Thankfully, he had placed the gift on his desk before movie night had begun, so he didn’t need more than a minute to conjure a box to put it in. 

He felt a pulse from behind him, and stiffened slightly. 

“Just one moment,” he said softly over his shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.”

He finished putting the present together and turned, his eyes avoiding the dark doorway on the other side of his room. He walked past it quickly, shuddering at the pulse that washed over him. 

“Just one moment, then I’m yours,” he told the darkness, slipping out into the hallway. He schooled his face back into one of fondness and he walked back to Logan, who had not moved an inch. 

“Just in case you change your mind in the future,” Janus said, handing him the flimsy box. “Consider this a housewarming gift.”

“That makes no sense, a housewarming gift is for...when...” Logan trailed off as he lifted the lid from the box, seeing a very familiar face staring back at him. “Is this…”

“A Baymax onesie? Why yes it is.” Janus smiled smugly, crossing his arms. “Is that...how do you put it? Satisfactory, Logan?”

Logan didn't answer for a long moment, long enough that Janus started to feel a flicker of worry that maybe…

Maybe he had gotten it wrong.

“Logan?” Janus said, bending a little to try and catch Logan's glowing eyes. “Logan, are you alright?”

Logan took a shuddering breath, taking the onesie out of its box and holding it to his chest. “Thank you, Janus,” He said, his voice thick. “I...I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Janus said, relieved that the circuits he could see forming under Logan’s skin were not because he hated it. “I figured you could use more positive representation—" he began, only to trail off as Logan choked a little, a drop of something dark sliding down his nose to drip onto the white fabric of the onesie. 

“No,” Logan whispered, frantically rubbing at the spot, and only succeeding in spreading the stain. “No, no, no…”

“Logan,” Janus said, watching with concern as the glow of the circuits went from gentle to harsh in an instant. “Logan, look at me.”

“You gave me a gift and I immediately ruined it—" Logan was shaking, and his circuits were pulsing to a steadily increasing beat. “I am so sorry—"

“Logan,” Janus said firmly, tipping Logan’s face up. “It’s okay,” he said, using his thumb to wipe away the tears. They felt different, more slick than regular tears, and they left dark tracks down Logan’s face, but Janus didn’t flinch away. 

“I believe if you look in Thomas’s memories tonight, you should find a wealth of information about how to get motor oil stains out of white fabric,” he said, summoning a handkerchief out of thin air. 

“How would you know that?” Logan asked, accepting the proffered handkerchief.

“I asked Thomas to research the topic when I excused myself,” Janus admitted, pleased to see that Logan was glowing less and less bright with every second. “I saw you trying to hide this during the movie, and knowing the onesie I had picked for you, I figured you would want to be prepared for such things.”

“You had this ready?” Logan asked, his hands tightening around the garment. “Even though I told Virgil I did not want one?” 

Janus smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course I did. You’re not nearly as good at lying about your feelings as you think you are,” he said, lightly ruffling Logan's hair. “Have a good night, Logan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter in one week. 
> 
> Virgil was being rather quiet during the movie, wasn't he?
> 
> Come visit us on @themorethingschange on Tumblr!


	3. Optical Illumination

Virgil knew, the instant he left the room less than a quarter of the way into movie night, that he was at his limit.

Thomas had been pulling on his function more than ever, as the rehearsals for _Company_ started to have more weight to them. Thomas wasn't just hanging out with new people while also learning the music and blocking and lines for the show, he was expected to _know_ them. He was expected to _perform_.

And he was constantly nervous about his lack of experience. It was taking all of Virgil’s energy to keep him on stage, even though Thomas wanted to be there, and Virgil…

Virgil was so, so _tired_.

And then the movie.

How did he always forget that...that _part_ , right up to the scene just before? How did he not remember to ask for something else, anything else?

There were other movies with good robots, _Janus_. Ones that didn't involve reminders of… 

Anyway.

He only half paid attention to the rest of the movie, even though Logan's facial expressions were admittedly pretty entertaining. He was too busy trying to keep his breathing steady, his face neutral, and figure out the best way to sneak back downstairs after everyone had gone to bed.

Janus had been particularly vigilant lately, especially since he learned that despite all of his intelligence, Logan was just as bad about maintaining a proper sleep schedule as Virgil and Remus. But there was no way that Virgil was going to do... _that_ in his room. He’d always felt uncomfortable at the thought of doing it in his room, but ever since Logan's room got untethered…?

He shuddered.

Yeah. No. Better safe than sorry.

Virgil’s opportunity arose as the movie was wrapping up. Logan and Janus had disappeared somewhere, leaving Virgil and Remus to clean up.

“Why don't you go up to bed, trash panda?” he said, gesturing at the bags of chips and plates of treats. “I’ve got this covered.”

“You sure, V?” Remus said, yawning wildly, the ears of his Stitch onesie flopping around as he moved. “We both lost the bet.”

“Yeah. Get some rest, you look beat.” Virgil gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Remus barely opened his eyes long enough to see it before giving in to the lure of a soft bed.

“Kay. Night, Virge.” He waved lazily as he shuffled toward the stairs.

“Night, Rem.”

Virgil watched him go, before slowly picking up all the snack debris. He stretched out the chore for as long as possible, taking multiple trips, picking up only one thing at a time. And yet, all too soon, the trash was all in the bin, the boxes and leftovers were put away, the table was wiped down, and Virgil was out of things to keep him occupied. 

He sat on the couch, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He glanced around, hoping to find another piece of trash he had missed. The room was spotless. And suddenly, it was too real, he was too aware, the light grating against his senses. He abruptly leapt to his feet to snap the lights off, staggering back in the dark to collapse on the couch.

Virgil tried to breathe evenly, keeping a tight grip on his mounting anxiety. If he got panicky now, it would all be for nothing. He just had to keep it together for a little while longer.

Just until he was sure Thomas was asleep.

Then he could…

He swallowed. _Idiot._ He chastised himself. _Rookie mistake._

The trick was not to think about it until right before he did it. Then he had less of a chance to freak himself out. 

His leg jiggled up and down as he waited, waited for the moment when Thomas's conscious mind stopped lurking at the edge of his senses, until it became muddled and abstract as he slipped into a dream sequence. Thankfully, it didn't take very long, and soon enough Virgil was as alone as he was ever going to be.

His breathing started to shake, the air rattling around in his lungs like a haunted house as he closed his eyes, reaching into himself and the core of his power, searching for the river that was his connection to Thomas.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the dark room. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas couldn't hear him. His apology wouldn't even make it to the background of Thomas's dreams. But this was part of the ritual too.

Apologizing to Thomas for what he was about to do.

Feeling the nausea well up in his throat, he swallowed tightly—

And cut himself off from Thomas.

The connection dwindled from a river to a trickle, and Virgil sobbed as the feeling of being cut off sank into every particle of his being. Then, even the trickle faded, and he bit down on his fist, ignoring the vile taste of his taped knuckles and the shakes beginning in his extremities as his entire being cried out in agony.

But he did not restore the connection.

Instead, he let the floodgates of his anxieties open up, let the stresses of the past few weeks swamp him. The quicker he got this over with, the sooner he could have Thomas back.

He knew it wasn't right that he did this. He knew that Janus would never understand, would see it as a betrayal of Thomas...and it was. 

He was betraying Thomas, abandoning him, just like he swore never to do, just like Logan did, only Logan didn't have a choice, Logan would never have left Thomas alone on purpose, because Logan wasn't a _coward_.

Virgil was, though. That much had been made very clear, ever since the incident with Logan's room. He was a coward, and he was weak. Only someone so cowardly and weak would find a simple musical so stressful that he had to...to…

 _But it wasn't his fault_ , a voice in his head argued. _Why should he be the only one to carry Thomas through this? Why did it all rest on him?_

He wished…

He wished he had someone to…

He shut down that train of thought quickly, turning away from it, knowing that if he went down that road, he would never be able to pull himself back together by morning. He buried his face in his knees, trying to keep as quiet as possible while hot tears streamed down his cheeks.

No one could know.

No one could know what a mess he really was. It wasn't just that they wouldn't respect him anymore, it wasn't just that they would have to tell Thomas about everything...

It wasn’t just that Virgil was so fucking scared of being booted.

Who would protect Thomas if he was gone?

Who would keep him _safe_?

_Right. Because you're doing such a good job of that. No one else could do what you do._

Wasn't that what Logan was getting at, when he pushed back against Thomas's choice to audition? Wasn't Logan pointing out that there wasn't anything special about him, wasn't anything that Remus or Janus or Logan couldn't do that Virgil could?

And now Virgil couldn't even hold it together for the things he had fought for.

_Failure._

_Coward._

**_Useless_** _._

“Virgil?”

Virgil froze, his heart in his throat.

No one had ever stumbled across Virgil when he was like this. He had made damn sure of it over the years.

No one was supposed to know.

Least of all...

“Virgil? Are you alright?”

_Him._

* * *

“I'm fine, nerd,” Virgil said, and was absurdly proud that his voice didn't shake at all when he said it. “Go back to bed before Janus catches you.”

“I hardly think you are in a position to reprimand me at this time,” Logan said primly. “Seeing as how you are not adhering to his rules either. What exactly is your excuse?”

“I just don't want to be in my room right now,” Virgil snapped. “Not that it's any of your business.”

“Fine,” Logan said dismissively. “I did not wish to converse with you anyway.”

Of _course_ he wouldn’t. All Virgil did when he talked to Logan was insult him and make him feel bad, even when he was trying to be nice. 

But that’s Virgil for you. So stupid and useless he couldn’t talk to anyone even if he wanted to…

(And he really did want to talk to someone.)

“...Fine,” he said, after much too long of a pause. “Whatever, just leave me alone, Logan.” And to Virgil’s mortification, his voice cracked halfway through the last syllable. 

“What was that?” Logan said, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I said fine. Leave me alone,” Virgil repeated, making his voice a little harsher, a little meaner. Anything to throw Logan off the scent.

“...Virgil, you never answered my question,” Logan said quietly, the bite gone from his voice. “Are you alright?”

For some reason, Virgil was reluctant to lie and say yes. But he was also much too proud and scared to say no.

So he said nothing.

He’d always had good night vision, always been able to see through shadows better than Remus or Janus. And Logan, with his faintly glowing eyes, might as well have been a spotlight for how well Virgil could track him in the dark.

Which made it very easy to see when Logan reached for the lightswitch.

“DON'T!” he said, way too loud, belatedly clapping a hand over his mouth as if that could keep the sound from echoing through the mindscape.

His voice was way more broken than he would ever want anyone to hear, but it did the trick. Logan froze, his hand hovering over the lightswitch, the blue lights in his eyes spinning as he processed what he heard. Together, the two sides waited to see if Virgil’s outburst had drawn the attention of Remus or Janus, but minutes passed without a single sound from upstairs.

Logan took his hand away from the wall, and Virgil felt himself relax. 

Marginally.

“Virgil, I am going to go into the kitchen to make some tea, do you have a preference as to the type?” Logan announced, his voice soft but...bland, like he didn’t really care. 

_Because why would he care about a loser like you?_

“Why would I have a preference?” Virgil said, and even though a new batch of tears were falling down his face, his voice remained just as steady and snappish as ever.

“The tea is for you,” Logan said, using that same neutral voice. 

“I’m fine. I don’t need tea.”

“You will be receiving tea anyway. What. Kind?”

There was enough steel in those two words that even Virgil could tell he wouldn’t be getting rid of Logan without taking the damn tea. “Whatever is easiest,” he sighed, as though he were put upon and not _cornered_. 

Logan came back shortly with the tea, placing it on the coffee table in front of Virgil’s curled form. Then, to Virgil’s surprise, he sat down in the chair across from him and closed his eyes, sending the room back into near darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to ask for help,” Logan said simply. “I will not force my assistance on you if it is not wanted. But I will also not leave until I am satisfied that you no longer immediately require it.”

“I don’t need your help,” Virgil tried to snap, but his facade was finally starting to crack, and it came out sounding weak and whiny. “Just go back to bed.”

“There is no shame in needing help,” Logan replied, and Virgil laughed hollowly, the sound getting caught up with a sob in his throat. 

“You shouldn't…” Virgil started to say, sitting up and rubbing his eyes like that would stop the tears. “It's not worth losing sleep over. It’s stupid.”

“Pardon me, but anything that reduces you to this state can hardly be classified as stupid,” Logan said, hesitantly reaching out to put his hand on Virgil’s hunched shoulder. “What is troubling you, Virgil?”

“Nothing!” Virgil exclaimed, too quickly and entirely unconvincing, shrugging Logan's hand off. “It’s just...just stress. Thomas is stressed about the show and…” he glanced up at Logan's face to gauge his reaction, and got nothing. “And it’s nothing to worry about!” he said, chickening out at the last minute because _that’s just what Virgil_ **_does_** _. He chickens out._

“On the contrary, I am quite concerned about you right now, Virgil,” Logan said. “You have been working very hard to help Thomas these past weeks, and mostly on your own. If you are feeling overwhelmed—”

“Are you saying I can't _handle_ it?” Virgil asked, wishing that his voice sounded more prideful, more accusatory, but instead it just sounded resigned.

If anyone were to notice that Virgil couldn't handle his shit anymore, it was the side sitting with him now.

“I would not say that,” Logan said carefully, his words almost apologetic. “I would say that perhaps the rest of us could have contributed more, to ease the pressure off of you, even if temporarily.”

“It was my suggestion,” Virgil said morosely. “I made this bed, now I have to lie in it.”

“You are not in your bed? You are on the couch,” Logan said with a confused head tilt. “Do you not know where you are?” 

Virgil ignored Logan’s confusion over the idiom, because now that he had started talking, he couldn't stop.

“I pushed Thomas to go for this, and I promised him six different ways that I would be there for him for the whole thing...” His chest started to hurt again, his fingers digging and scratching at his own skin. He barely felt it past the crushing inadequacy, the helplessness, the _guilt._ “I _promised_ him.”

“And you have been fulfilling that promise.” Virgil laughed hollowly, which made the blue glow under Logan’s skin shine just a bit brighter. “You have not failed him, Virgil.”

“Yet,” Vigil muttered, looking away.

“‘ _Yet?_ ’” Logan repeated, and there went Virgil's hope that maybe Logan hadn't heard that self deprecating little comment. He certainly hadn't meant to say it out loud, let alone to Logan. “You believe that you will fail?”

Why did he say it like that? Like...like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion. 

Like he hadn’t said _that exact thing_ back at the debate.

_‘I did not realize you would be so cavalier with Thomas in the pursuit of being right.’_

Was that what he’d done? Had he been so caught up in what he thought Thomas wanted that he pushed him too far? Had beating Logan been so important that he forgot what his purpose was?

He was made to protect Thomas. 

So why couldn’t he just _stop crying about it_?!

“I do not understand,” Logan said, “Why did you work so hard to convince Thomas to audition if you felt this way?”

“I didn't really _know_.” Virgil muffled his almost wail against his own knees. The last thing he needed was for Remus, or god forbid, _Janus_ , to come down and see Logan and him like _this_. “It was...abstract, before. And I knew that Thomas had a good time before, and that it made him happy. I wanted him to be happy.”

“Even if you knew it might make you suffer?”

“Of course.”

And...he wanted to do something, just a small something, to keep _his_ legacy alive.

Even if Virgil was the only one who cared.

“That is…” Logan huffed a faint breath. “I struggle to find the words to describe that.”

“I think ‘stupid’ pretty much covers it,” Virgil scoffed, keeping his face buried in his knees.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, with so much emphasis that Virgil looked up. “You...you are _impressive_ , Virgil.”

“What?” Virgil couldn’t process Logan’s words, his whole mind ground to a halt.

“Most in your situation would run from unavoidable suffering. You...you welcomed it.”

“F-for _Thomas—_ ”

“That does not make what you do any less impressive.” Logan reached out to Virgil again, then pulled his hand back, no doubt remembering how Virgil had shrugged him off before. But that was then, and right that moment, all Virgil wanted was a point of connection, to feel like he wasn't all alone for just one second, and he had no idea how to _ask_. “Thomas is very lucky to have you in charge of his courage, Virgil.”

For some reason, _that_ was what broke Virgil, what made him crumble inside, falling under the waves of panic and despair and guilt.

He wasn’t entirely sure what noise he made, whether it was a sob, or a whimper, or some unholy combination of the two. He couldn’t see through the tears falling down his face anew as he tried and failed to just _breathe—_

“Fuck,” Logan swore, frantic. “I apologize for upsetting you, Virgil, that was not my intention—”

 _Shut up_ , Virgil wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to keep the air in his lungs long enough to form the words.

“Virgil, you must try to calm down. Thomas will—”

“Thomas can’t feel me right now.”

Logan was stunned silent for a minute, and that's all the opening Virgil needed to just _confess_.

“I cut him off every time I get like this, every time it gets to be too much. Every time I can’t...can’t handle my shit anymore.”

Logan didn't say anything for a long moment, and in that time, Virgil's mind went wild, envisioning scenarios where Logan yelled, where he got mad, where he told everyone else and they all got mad and yelled at him too.

“I...I wait ‘till he’s asleep though,” Virgil said, trying to ameliorate the rage no doubt building under Logan's bright skin. “I never do it when he's awake, he’s not even aware of it, I swear. A-and it doesn't happen often, like...like once in a while—”

“But...you love Thomas,” Logan said, his voice catching just slightly and silencing Virgil more effectively than a shout ever could. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because...because it's not _fair_.” Virgil sobbed. “It's not fair that he has to suffer when I can't do my job right anymore, when I'm scared over the dumbest things and Thomas needs me to be brave.” He could barely breathe, let alone speak, but he managed to keep his voice down enough to choke out, “A-and it hurts so much, and I hate it, and what if something happens, and I don't notice it? What if Thomas needs me, and I'm not there because I don't want him to...to…hate me or—”

Virgil’s throat locked up, cutting off his ramblings as he struggled to breathe. He hid his face in his knees, trying not to feel Logan’s eyes on him, no doubt glaring at him for leaving Thomas alone and unprotected, disappointed that _this_ was the side in charge of protecting Thomas, this...anxiety-ridden _coward_ who was more concerned with making sure that Thomas still _liked_ him than he was about doing his fucking job.

“I'm not _‘impressive’_ ,” he finally gasped out. “I’m...useless. What good is a Courage that's afraid? Thomas would have been better off with one of you in charge of courage.”

“Don’t say that,” Logan said, so quiet that Virgil wasn’t quite sure he heard him. And the fact that Logan used a contraction was also a point in favor of Virgil just hearing things. 

“Remus would have been great for courage,” Virgil said. Remus could be so brave. Virgil had seen it in their many adventures in the imagination. The only thing that really scared him was disappointing the rest of the sides and Thomas. But then again…

“Not that I would have been any better at creativity with how stupid and unoriginal I am,” Virgil admitted dully, pulling his hoodie a little closer around himself.

“Stop saying those things,” Logan said, incensed.

“Why?”

“Because you’re _wrong_ ,” Logan snapped, glowing like a nightlight in the dark. 

Well...Virgil _definitely_ heard him that time.

“Courage is not the absence of fear,” Logan began, stiltedly and unsure of himself, but not of what he was saying. “Courage is taking action despite the fear, which is what you have always done—”

“You don't know that.”

“I am in charge of Thomas’s memories,” Logan reminded him. “I...I can tell when a side takes over. I can see it. And I have seen _you_ , Virgil, stepping in and helping Thomas time and time again. You are his _protector_ , Virgil. You always have been, and _no one_ could do a better job than you.” Logan made unwavering eye contact, and Virgil was struck by how entirely _earnest_ he was. “It was _literally_ what you were created to do. How could any one of us be more suited to the role you were designed for?” 

Logan’s skin was still glowing, still a bright beacon in the dark but there was something different about it this time. Maybe it was the patterns that the circuits made on his skin, or maybe it was the manner in which they glowed. Whatever it was...it gave the impression that Logan was angry, but also somehow devastated.

“And to compare yourself to Remus?” Logan scoffed. “You are courage, not creativity. But that does not mean you are not brilliant and inventive. Easing Thomas towards improvement using culinary achievements? That was ingenious, an inspired tactic and one that has worked _perfectly_. Do not sell your achievements short, Virgil.” 

“Why are you being nice to me right now?” Virgil asked shakily. “I was such an asshole to you.”

“I was not entirely blameless in those interactions. More times than not, I provoked you into heated responses.” Logan’s spotlight eyes turned downcast. “I am not entirely sure why I behaved that way. Perhaps I was envious of how close you were to Thomas. Or…” 

“Or what?” Virgil prodded, latching on to the trailing thread, hoping for some explanation that would make everything make sense. 

“Perhaps I should refrain from saying. You are very emotional right now, and I do not know how you will react to random bouts of sentimentality. I do not wish to set you off again.”

“Logan, just say it.”

“I was...under the impression that antagonizing each other was a common way for siblings to show affection.”

“S-siblings?” Virgil repeated, his voice hushed. 

“Virgil, you need to regulate your breathing. Please breathe in for four seconds,” Logan said, and it was only then that Virgil realized he was hyperventilating again. 

It made sense, of course. They had manifested around the same time, and despite their superficial differences, they were very similar, like two sides of the same coin. 

Virgil had always thought so.

He just didn’t think that Logan did too.

Logan walked Virgil through the breathing exercise until his lungs stopped hurting. Virgil still had tears coursing down his face, and his head was still too full of panicky static to even think about touching his connection to Thomas. 

But...it wasn’t so bad, having Logan there. In fact, once the initial humiliation wore off, it was kind of nice. 

“How do you know about the breathing thing?” Virgil asked quietly, still trying to keep his breathing steady. “How did you know that would work?”

“Both Thomas and Remus exhibit signs of anxiety on a regular basis. I have researched many methods to aid someone in the throes of a panic attack.”

“Why?” Virgil questioned. “Regulating their anxiety isn’t your job—”

“Because I need to,” Logan cut him off, face and voice determined, “regardless of whether it falls under my direct purview. To be helpless in the face of suffering is abhorrent to me.” 

Virgil could relate.

Logan continued, softer in the quiet. “I lack the emotional capacity to be a comfort in most situations. I cannot be comforting, so I must be helpful. I have researched many topics to arm myself with the knowledge of what to do, no matter the situation. I must, because the alternative is unacceptable.” 

Virgil stared at Logan. It was like Logan was reading his own thoughts like they were notes in his little black notebook. 

“How did you know I was down here?” He asked, unsure how to follow up a vulnerable statement like that. “Did you hear me from upstairs?”

“I did not,” Logan admitted. “Nor did I ever think my assistance would be welcomed. That you have allowed me to aid you in this state was...surprising. I was under the impression that you did not…” 

“Did not…?”

Logan huffed. “I was under the impression that my presence was distasteful to you.”

“You think I don't...like you?”

“It is a logical assumption, you and I have fought on numerous occasions, and our functions are about as diametrically opposed as any of Thomas's sides. Also you…”

“I, what?” Virgil prompted again when Logan’s voice trailed off.

“You don't require my assistance as much as Janus or Remus,” Logan said. “Remus needs a structured framework to keep himself on task, and he needs logic to banish the negative thoughts that his rejection sensitivity gives him. Janus requires my assistance in learning how to best help Remus, and I intend to help him maintain a copacetic environment within the core mindscape.” Logan looked up plaintively, before glancing away again, unable to maintain eye contact. His fingers were twisting together in his lap, lit by his gaze. “You have never needed my assistance in any way. And it is difficult for me to justify my presence when it serves no purpose.”

“I...you’re not...I don't…” There was so much to unpack there, Virgil didn't even know where to start. “We’re friends, Logan. At least...I think you’re my friend. And…” He swallowed. “And maybe...maybe we could…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe we could be brothers too. If you wanted,” he said, feeling his face and ears burning. “The, uh...the supportive kind of brothers, not the kind that can’t stand each other.”

“I...would like that.” Logan looked back at Virgil, a cautious smile curving his lips.

“Cool. Then, uh…” Virgil felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, but pressed on anyway. “Thank you. I'm glad you were here to help me tonight.”

“I am...relieved to hear that.” Logan’s eyes flashed in the dark. “Your breathing patterns have returned to normal, and I no longer think you require direct supervision. Do you wish to be left alone now?”

“Not really?”

“Very well,” Logan said, “If you will permit me, I will stay here.” He turned his hand, conjuring a book out of thin air and settling back into the armchair.

“You…” Virgil began, unsure of himself. “You can turn the light on if you need to.”

“You expressed distress at that action earlier. Have your feelings on the matter changed?” Logan calmly waited for Virgil’s response, hands paused on the cover. 

“How are you going to read in the dark, genius?”

“Virgil,” Logan said patiently. “My eyes glow. I do not require the light.”

“...Oh. Right,” Virgil said, feeling stupid. He was silent for a few seconds more, feeling the curiosity burning a hole in his chest until he blurted, “Does...does that ever bother you? That you can't ever turn it off?”

Logan’s eyes blinked dark for a few very long seconds, and Virgil was about to take the question back when Logan answered.

“It...used to,” he admitted slowly. “But lately, I have found more and more reasons to be grateful for them. Such as right now.” He opened the book. “Remember, four, seven, eight,” he reminded Virgil, and soon the only sounds in the room were their breathing, and the faint turning of pages.

The glow from his eyes was very soothing, flickering as Logan blinked and occasionally glowing brighter as he processed the things he was reading. Virgil inhaled in the calming pattern until he didn't have to think about it anymore, watching the shadows cast by Logan’s eyelashes dancing on the ceiling. When he no longer felt like he was holding back a tide of fear, he breathed deeply and finally let his connection to Thomas flow back into its proper place.

He fell asleep on the couch, sleeping easier than he had in weeks. 

He’s allowed to. 

Logan is watching out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode soon. 
> 
> An old friend of Logan stops by for a visit.


End file.
